Dovahkiin: Jagged Edges
by Jarl of the North
Summary: Most assume that there is only one with the name 'Dovahkiin' at a time, one who only arises at the time of need. I tell you now, this is not true. A dragon's soul broken, its vessels split, two heroes of utterly different ideals rise to the challenge of Alduin. But will they kill each other before the World Eater gets the chance? "This, the beginning? I wish. That would be simple."
1. A Narrow Brush with Death

I do not own the Elder Scrolls. The main characters, however, I do own.

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Dovahkiin. It's Draconic for "Dragonborn."

Or at least, that's what my grandmother told me, back when I was little. Before this even began. Before a civil war broke out.

Before I began my journey to the home of the Nords. Skyrim.

What did the word "Dovahkiin" have to do with me, one might ask? Supposedly, there was someone who was born with the soul of a Dragon every time the old Dovahkiin died. How it happened was unknown; whether it was through bloodline, through destiny, or through pure dumb luck was beyond anyone who wasn't already dead, but I choose to believe the latter of the three. I don't believe in crap like destiny, and I just don't understand what about a bloodline makes people so special; if you were the descendant of a hero... so what? That hero has nothing to do with you. You don't just get something thrown into your lap because you're descended from someone famous; you have to earn what you want, you have to work for it. Or at least, that's how _I_ believe it should work.

Either way, it didn't change what my grandmother thought. According to the Elder Scrolls of legend (or just her interpretation of the legends of what the Elder Scrolls foretold), the next Dovahkiin had been born. I don't know what that had to do with me - the old lady died before I'd gotten everything out of her - but she told me one day, I'd figure it out on my own.

Well, whoopde-frickin'-doo. A lot of good that's doing me, if the old bat _wasn't_ crazy.

I stared up at the gray sky, totally coated in cloud that seemed to be one impenetrable layer of colourlessness, just a single sheet of total gray, not even letting the sun shine through. A perfect sky for an execution, MY execution, no less. For something I hadn't even gotten involved in yet. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

The cart I was in gave a massive jump as one of the wheels rolled over a rock. My head snapped to the driver, my pure white hair lashing about as I glared into the back of the Imperial's head, my bound hands flexing, "hey, you. The jackass who's driving."

The driver turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowed as he struggled to look at me past his leather helmet, "are you talking to me, prisoner?"

"Yes, you. Who else would I be talking to? You see anyone else driving this cart?" I snarled, "how about you drive more carefully? There's some who would prefer to make it to their execution with some peace of mind, and you're not helping anything with your distractions."

He snorted, "you have no right to speak, you Stormcloak scum."

I sighed, shaking my head in the knowledge that telling them I had nothing to do with the Rebellion was useless, "whatever. Just pay more attention to the road. I actually want to make it to my execution alive," I leaned forwards, letting my white hair hang over my face, looking over my life like some kind of old man.

"So, you've been awake this whole time, have you?"

I glanced to the voice, and I took in my fellow prisoners for the first time. The one who'd spoken was dressed in nearly all blue scale armour, with shoulder length hair of a dirty gold, tied into a braid framing one side of his face, and a thick mustache and beard, his eyes the constant icy blue that accompanied almost all Nords. His voice was one of a kind gruffness that also accompanied the Nords - the ones who were actually native to Skyrim, anyways.

"Yeah. I'm awake," I left it at that as I took in the other members of the cart - two more Nordic men, and an Imperial woman. The first Nord was nothing special - dark hair and eyes, ragged clothes. But the second one got my interest immediately. With a mixture of armour, nobleman's clothes, and a bearskin cloak around his shoulders, he wasn't just bound; his entire arms had been bound in place with chains, his feet hooked together like some kind of slave. A gag had been wrapped around his mouth, keeping a fleshy wad of... something inside, though why, I couldn't imagine. But I drew in a single breath of shock upon glancing at the woman. Even in the commoner's rags she was wearing, she was a sight to behold - she had a tall, curvacious, yet powerful frame, not as heavy or thick as a Nord, but clearly a stronger build than any normal person from Cyrodiil. Her long, crimson hair hung about her head in tangled clumps, and her hands were tough, calloused from hours of work, not unlike my own. As her amethyst eyes slowly opened, and her regal gaze seemed to pierce through me until I managed to drag my gaze away.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, the girl, and that thief over there."

"Damn you Stormcloaks... before you came along, the Empire was nice and lazy. If they weren't looking for you, I'd have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

I turned a bored eye to the man who sat at the edge, with the black hair and eyes. He'd been rambling for a while, and until now, I'd managed to tune him out. It was all I could do to keep from kicking him out the back of the cart just to shut him up as he continued, turning to me and the redheaded woman, "you there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"Well, we're all brothers and sisters in binds _now,_ thief," the armoured man glowered at him.

I snorted, staring at the thief, "goes to show what the Empire's really like. Arbitrary arrests on those who had nothing to do with it. Though arrest for theft isn't quite arbitrary."

The redhead gave me an icy stare, "the Stormcloaks and their sympathizers aren't on a much higher level. Just ask Ulfric here."

She gestured to the man with the gag, who was giving her a glare as evil as the Daedra themselves. He gave a grunt, as though attempting to bite through his gag, then slowly settled down as the soldier snarled "watch your tongue. You're speaking Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King! I don't care if I'm bound, one more insult to Ulfric out of you, and I break your neck, you bitch."

She merely rolled her eyes, "men. You're all the same. Proud and foolish."

The soldier stood, rocking the whole cart as he did so. I grabbed his wrist and he glared at me as I stated "not worth it, man. Not worth it. It's bad enough we have to die today. Don't make it any worse for yourself."

He hesitated for an instant before sitting back down, slowly, continuing to glare at the woman, who crossed her legs and hung her head backwards, staring up at the sky.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief's eyes widened with sudden panic, "you're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... oh, Gods. Where are they taking us?"

"What an idiot," I sighed, letting my head roll back onto my shoulders, "I don't know where we're going, but wherever it is, it's going to be our burial ground. Why do you think we've been talking about execution for the past five minutes?"

"In other words, no matter what, Sovngarde awaits," the armoured one stated, leaning back, surprisingly calm.

"No... This can't be happening. This isn't happening!" the thief shouted.

"Oh, will you shut up?" the woman lashed out with her foot, catching the man in the side of the jaw and nearly sending him tumbling to the road. Her voice was clear and regal as she spoke, holding a fierce flame burning within it, "no one wants to listen to your ramblings. Least of all me."

The man gave a whimper, shrinking back as far as he could away from the woman and rubbing at his nearly broken jaw, "I stole a horse... that's all I did. The three of us... we never did anything to deserve this!"

There was a short silence before the armoured one asked "hey... where are all of you from? You, horse thief, you first."

"Why do you care?" the thief snapped.

"A person's last thoughts should be of home," he stated simply.

The thief hesitated, the stated "Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."

The Stormcloak soldier nodded, then he turned to me, "I'm Ralof, of Riverwood. Would you two mind telling me where you are from?"

I hesitated slightly before stating "Cyrodiil. I was born in Windhelm and spent the first few years of my life as a child there, but I lived most of my life in the mountains of northern Cyrodiil with my family in a secluded home, pretty isolated. I came here, to Skyrim when I heard about the Rebellion... I was never sure why, really. I just felt like I had to come. This is the first time I've seen the land I was born in. But I think I know," I glared at the Imperial soldier who drove the cart, "which side I'd choose if I were to actually get out of this."

Ralof nodded before turning his gaze to the woman, "and you?"

"Morrowind," she stated simply, "I lived in Morrowind, at the base of the Red Mountain. My family had moved there from Cyrodiil before I was born because of multiple years of bad harvest. I had even less reason to come to Skyrim than he did, but still I came. And here I am, being driven to my execution for no reason."

"General Tulius, sir!" a voice ahead called out, "the Headsman is waiting!"

"Good," another replied, "let's get this over with."

I glanced forwards, taking in the stone walls of the town ahead before pointing ahead as best I could with my bound hands, "there it is. Welcome to Helgen, our execution site."

"... Zenithar, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh... Divines! Please help me!" the thief begged, his eyes cast skywards, almost forced to tears.

As the gate finally came into view, so did the other carts, packed full with Stormcloak soldiers as each cart entered the gate. At the front of the caravan rode a single man, wearing the Imperial red armour of a general - no doubt general Tullius, who'd probably come to see Ulfric's execution to ensure that it went as planned, pulling off to the edge and halting to talk with his men. While most of the village didn't catch my interest, a massive watchtower stood in the center of Helgen, dwarfing the walls by at least twenty feet.

"Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him," Ralof cursed, "damn elves... I bet they had something to do with this."

"Finally, something I agree with you on," the redhead spat, "I can't stand them."

I drifted off into thought as Ralof continued speaking, something about how he used to be sweet on a girl here as a boy, and if someone were still selling a special mead with berries mixed in. But chills shot down my spine as he stated, sorrow tinged in his voice, "it's funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

I lost myself in thought again, the raging storm inside my head beating against the walls of my skull. I was shortly jolted out of my self induced trance as the cart came to a stop, and each person got off the trio of carts. I felt something horribly close to fear as my ice blue eyes scanned over our surroundings. About twenty prisoners in all, almost all of them Stormcloak, the three exceptions being me, the woman, and the guy she kicked. A small group of about ten people stood on the sidelines, about half of them Nords, and Imperial soldiers were scattered throughout the area, two standing off to the side, a legionnaire and a normal soldier. At the base of the watchtower, a stone block sat, a basket at its edge and a giant of a man standing at its side, gripping his massive axe with grim resolve, his expression unreadable beneath the black mask of an executioner.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief began to tremble as he took in our surroundings, sweat pouring off him like boulders off a mountain.

"Why do you think?" the woman shot back, "end of the line."

"Let's go," Ralof stood, "wouldn't want to keep the guards waiting."

"No, wait! We're not rebels!" the thief begged as we all stood, Ulfric descending from the cart first, "we're not-"

He was cut off as the woman kicked him out of the back of the cart. She descended from the cart, giving a snort as she stepped on his back, making him yelp in pain, then stomped on the back of his head, driving his face into the dry, rocky dirt and effectively shutting him up.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," Ralof spat as the woman stepped off of him, and he raised his head again as I stepped over him, his eyes pleading for mercy.

"You've got to tell them!" he begged, "we weren't with you! This is a mistake-"

"For the last time," the woman managed between her grit teeth, "shut the hell up! Or we'll kill you ourselves!"

"Well spoken," I managed as Ralof stepped past the thief, and I turned to face the Imperials.

Their legionnaire stepped forwards, "step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!"

"Empire loves their damn lists," Ralof muttered, and I gave a slight smirk.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," the Imperial soldier stated, and the Jarl walked forwards, cold, calm, regal before his men as he approached his death.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," Ralof bowed his head in respect, then started after him when his name was read from the list.

"Lokier of Rorikstead."

The thief, Lokier, broke into tears, shouting "no! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

He almost immediately broke into a run, shouting in his delirium, "you're not gonna kill me!"

"Halt!" the legionnaire shouted. When it became clear that he wasn't about to stop, she called out "archers!"

Within the next instant, an archer launched an arrow, piercing the thief's back, and sending him crashing to earth. The man writhed about, thrashing and screaming like a sick, dying dog for a long thirty seconds before finally going limp, having lost the strength to move, yet still breathed, his breath panicked, blood dripping from the mouth. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard.

Almost.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the legionnaire hissed.

When no one answered, she snorted, "filthy bastards. Skyrim, no, all of Tamriel is better off without you scumbags!"

"Wait..." the soldier beside her paused, looking up and down his list with interest, before glancing up at me and the redhead, "you two there. Step forwards."

He studied each of us for an instant before asking "who... are you?"

I snorted, "what does it matter? You'll kill me no matter what I tell you. It's not like you Imperial scum give a damn-"

"His name is Rorik," the woman stated, cutting me off, "and I am Valkyrie. Valkyrie Drominas."

I glared at her, partly for cutting me off, partly for giving them a false name, and she merely gave me a sideways glance, as though she wanted to say "there's no point in wasting a life that doesn't need to spent. I'm trying to help you. Don't blow it."

I merely shook my head, and the soldier stated "you two chose a bad time to come to Skyrim. Especially you, kinsman," he pointed at me, then turned to the legionnaire, "captain, what should we do? They're not on the list."

His superior snorted, "forget the list. They go to the block."

The soldier gave a curt nod, "by your orders, captain," he turned to us, seeming chagrined by his orders, gave us each a long, sorrowful stare, "I'm sorry, you two. There's nothing I can do. Follow the captain, prisoners."

"Whatever," I snorted, "and by the way, _captain... _you're a total bitch. I hope you realize that."

She turned to glare at me, then slammed her gauntlet covered fist into my gut. I let out a slight wheeze as the wind was knocked from my body, but stayed standing, glaring into her eyes before she turned away, and walked through the crowd to the center of the yard. As she walked past, I saw Tullius finally show his face, standing before Ulfric with steadfast determination as he spoke, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king, and usurp his throne."

Ulfric merely let out a grunt, and for a long few seconds nothing happened before Tullius continued "you started this war. Plunged Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

It looked like he was about to continue, but a screeching sound, almost like a howl of triumph echoed down from the distant mountain to the north - High Hrothgar, the Throat of the World.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the captain brought her fist to her chest, and turned to a woman in bright hooded robes, "give them their final rights."

The woman nodded, cleared her throat, and raised her arms skywards, calling out "as we commend your souls to Aetherias, blessings of the eight Divines upon you-"

"Oh for Talos' sake, shut up and let's get this over with," one of the Stormcloaks stomped up to the block, clearly not in the mood to deal with any Imperial bullshit at the moment.

Taking the opportunity presented, I shouted "and to add to that, there's _nine _Divines, dumbass!"

The woman stared for a moment, then grated her teeth, obviously irritated by both the soldier and my outburst, "as you wish."

The Stormcloak soldier grinned as he got to his knees, "come on, I haven't got all morning!" he set down his neck down on the block, shouting as the executioner raised his axe, "my ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same!?"

Upon the last word, the axe struck, biting through the Stormcloak's neck severing his head, sending it tumbling into the basket. His body twitched about before finally going limp, and as the executioner removed the head from the basket, one of the Nord women shouted "you Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!"

Almost immediately afterwards, as though to counter the outburst, someone from the Empire yelled "death to the Stormcloaks!"

The man holding the list gave a low sigh, shaking his head, and Ralof bowed his head in respect, declaring "as brave in death as he was in life."

The legionnaire beside him continued "next, the Nord in the rags!"

"Just my luck," I muttered, "Divines, Daedra, or whoever made my luck so damn shitty today... fuck you. Fuck you all _so_ hard."

I felt myself go rigid as another howl echoed down the mountain, my gaze once again shooting to the icy peaks of High Hrothgar. I felt my breath go ragged as I continued to stare. That was not nothing.

Something was out there. And it was happy about something, about to go on a celebratory rampage.

"There it is again," another Imperial stated, "did you hear that?"

The captain cleared her throat again, "I said, next. Prisoner!"

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," the Imperial soldier who'd tried to help me stated, trying to calm me, I guess. I merely walked to the block without a word, my eyes caressing each person there, every Stormcloak, every Imperial, Ralof, Ulfric, even Valkyrie, if that was really her name. I sighed, kneeling, placing my head right over the basket and staring up at the mountain that towered over the horizon. I watched as my life flashed before my eyes, and then smirked. It wasn't like it had been all bad. I did have my good moments in life - wait. What the hell did I just see?

I felt myself stiffen again, totally forgetting about everything else as I watched the black shape move across the sky, huge, massive... and getting closer. As it approached, I couldn't believe what I saw. It wasn't possible, shouldn't be possible, _couldn't _be possible. And yet there it was. Right in front of me.

"What in Oblivion is that!?" the words of the guard echoed in my ears as the executioner raised his axe, and the shape flared its black, massive wings, and began its descent on top of the watchtower.

"Sentries!" the captain shouted, "what do you see?"

The ground shook as the legend before me landed on the tower, knocking everyone to their knees as it stared down at us. The sounds of metal being drawn from sheaths rang through the air, and someone shouted out the one word that I couldn't believe I was seeing.

"Dragon!"

The one thing in life I had wanted so desperately to see in my lifetime, my obsession right from the first time I'd heard stories about them as a child, right in front of me, encased in black scales from head to tail. Spikes jutted out from its back, tail and shoulders all over the place from the scaled plates that made up its body, and great black wings folded themselves under its body, like a pair of forelegs on an animal. Its head was sharp, jagged, its horns like curved swords, its eyes burning like the red hot coals of a dying fire. It stared down at us for what seemed like hours before raising its head to the sky, and unleashing a roar, the sound echoing over what seemed like all of Skyrim and splitting into my head, wracking my body with pain. The edges of my vision grew blurry as I gripped at my skull, and the skies darkened, the clouds growing in length and twisting into what looked like an inverted maelstrom of sky, the clouds swirling inwards as chunks of flaming rock began to descend from the sky. In rapid succession, the dragon let out another roar, a blast of energy shooting from its jaws and smashing into one of the buildings behind me, the sheer force of the attack making it crumble.

"Gotta... get out... of here," I managed, grating my teeth as pain continued to shoot through my body, the sheer majority of it concentrating in my head, "come on, body... move..."

As another echoing howl shredded through the air, another blast of pain shot through me. I let out a scream of pain as I threw my head back, doing my best to grab my ears to block out the sound, trying to make it stop. I stood, swaying with an unsteady gait as I stumbled away, trying to get as far as I could from the infernal echoes that threatened to rend my mind and sanity. I forced my eyes open, and there stood Ralof. He shouted at me, "enough! Come on, the Gods won't give us another chance!" he gestured to another tower, "this way!"

Dodging through the hailstorm of flaming rock, I managed to follow him through what was left of the Helgen's execution yard to the watchtower. In less than thirty seconds, the place had been turned from a quiet village to what looked like a war zone - the clouds had darkened to an even duller gray than before, flaming rock falling from the sky every few seconds, the air absolutely choked with dust. Imperial soldiers aimed their bows at the dragon, but to little avail - if they weren't killed by the falling fire, they were killed by enraged Stormcloaks, or worse, the dragon itself, leaving corpses strewn throughout the streets, burned and broken.

"Jarl Ulfric," Ralof swallowed, facing the now unbound Jarl of Windhelm. The Jarl's face remained cold as ever as he studied his subordinate's face, which was twisted with disbelief and confusion, "what is that thing!? Could the legends be true!?"

Ulfric's voice, cold and calm, shot through the tower and struck deep into our hearts, "legends don't burn down villages."

Another roar breached the stone walls of the tower, and a familiar voice called down, "what are you idiots standing around for?! Get your ugly asses up here!"

I turned, and there was Valkyrie, halfway up the steps, her face twisted with indescribable pain and confusion as she made her way upwards, struggling to get her hands out of the binds. Almost immediately, we bolted up the steps after her, the only way to go being up. As we were about reach the second floor, however, the wall exploded inwards, and a jet of fire shot in, charring the stone with such heat that it actually began to melt. Screams sounded from within the flame before it dissipated, and a rush of air nearly knocked me back down the steps as the dragon leaped from the tower and flapped to another part of the burning village, leaving the hole in the wall be.

As we ascended to the second floor, I couldn't bring myself to look behind me, keeping my gaze forwards through the hole in the wall. I didn't want to look at the bodies.

"See the inn on the other side?" Ralof asked, pointing at the smoking building below, a hole in the ceiling, "jump through the roof and keep going, both of you!"

"What about you?" I shouted.

"I need to see to the Jarl. I'll be fine. Just go!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I leaped, Valkyrie beside me as we crashed to the wooden floor of the inn. We ran across the creaking, burning floor, and dropped through a hole to the ground floor, making one final break for the hole in the wall as fire ate its way through the charred, smoking wood. We stopped dead in our tracks at the sight of the Imperial soldiers, two of them trying to guide a boy through the street. The boy made it about halfway before the dragon landed behind him. He panicked slightly before the soldier shouted "atta boy, you're doing great!"

That was all the encouragement the boy needed. He sprinted, the soldiers accompanying him as the dragon let loose a stream of fire, scorching the street black as they pulled behind a makeshift barricade that was once part of a building. The one caught sight of us, and I recognized him as the man who had read the list.

"Still alive, prisoners?" he called out, "stay close to me if you want to stay that way! Undar!" he turned to the other soldier, "take care of the boy! I have to find general Tullius and join the defense!"

His friend nodded, "Gods guide you, Hadvar."

With that, the two immediately split up, the one named Hadvar motioning for us to follow him. As Valkyrie started to go after him, I shouted at her, "what are you, crazy!? The Empire just tried to kill us less than five minutes ago!"

She turned to me, her eyes blazing, "not all Imperials are like that, you know. Look at the one who tried to help us, for an example, the one we _should_ be following right now. Plus, it's a choice of him, or the dragon. Which do you prefer?"

I glanced up at the black demon that rampaged through the area, then reluctantly nodded, "alright. But as soon as we don't need him, he goes!"

She nodded in acknowledgement, then we bolted after the soldier, who was coming close to an alleyway made up of a broken stone wall and a burning building. As we approached, he shouted "stay close to the wall!"

He crouched low, and almost immediately the beast landed on top of the wall, its clawed wing inches from my face. It let out another blast of hellish inferno as it reduced another Imperial to ashes, weapons, flesh, armour and all before taking off again. As soon as it was gone, we all bolted, running through streets and wrecked buildings alike and passing another group of Imperials as they tried to combat the monster that was tearing what I assumed to at least be their protective charge if not actual home. Hadvar called back again as we approached the main keep, "it's you and me, prisoners! Stay close!"

As we entered the courtyard of the keep, a familiar face ran through a section of the wall, brandishing an axe that glinted like a beacon in the sunlight. Hadvar's face twisted with rage as his eyes set on him, "Ralof! You damn traitor! Outta my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time!" Ralof shouted back, hefting his axe slightly.

Another roar rocked the foundations of the earth. Hadvar grated his teeth, his grip on his Imperial gladius tightening before he managed through his grit teeth "fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

After that, each went for a separate door in the side of the keep. Without a second thought, I bolted after Ralof, ducking through the door as he threw it open and never looking back. As soon as we were both in, Ralof slammed the door shut, bolting it up and leaning against it, the both of us working to catch our breath.

"So, our little girlfriend didn't come, eh?"

The question shot chills down my spine as a horrible realization came over me.

Valkyrie wasn't here. Which meant...

She'd gone with Hadvar.


	2. Rage of the Stormcloak

I do not own the Elder Scrolls. The main characters, however, I do own. Concerning what will happen with the two; what I think will happen is that I will write a couple of chapters for one, then a couple of chapters for the other unless their stories meet up, in which case the POV will change quite frequently. But until such a thing happens, enjoy the show from the POV of a true Stormcloak.

* * *

As soon as we had entered the room, Ralof rushed over to a Stormcloak lying dead on the floor. He convulsed slightly, bowing his head in a mixture of respect and grief, then murmured under his breath "we'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother."

He stumbled over to the wall, leaning against it as he struggled to catch his breath, "th... that thing was a dragon. Like in the children's stories," he coughed slightly.

"I can't believe it either. It's... it's insane. What next, vampires? Werewolves? Or should we just skip right to the end of the world and take on the second coming of Oblivion?" I glanced about nervously, shuddering as more dust came down from the ceiling, "damn... it feels like this whole place could come down on us at any second."

He took another glance about, then nodded, taking a dagger from his belt, "come here. Let's see if I can get those bindings off."

I complied, holding out my calloused hands and letting him do the rest, cutting through the bonds and letting them fall to the floor. He nodded, "there you go," he looked at the fallen Stormcloak soldier, then gestured to him, "you may as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it."

"You sure?" I asked.

He shook his head, "those rags won't do you much good as armour, and you need a weapon. You may as well take what's here."

I nodded, then proceeded to change, tossing away the rags in exchange for the mixture of chain, hide, leather and scale armour that was the Stormcloak cuirass, the blue sash wrapped around my shoulder and across my torso, held in place by the leather belts that accompanied the armour. Shifting slightly in the hide boots, I smirked, "it feels good."

Ralof gave a slight smirk, "you make it look good," he then bent down, picked up the axe of his fallen comrade, and tossed it to me, "give that axe a few swings and then check the gate. We need to get out of here."

I stared at the axe in my hands, grateful I hadn't accidentally caught it by the blade, the iron that made up said blade gleaming in the dim light and clashing with the dark wood that it was attached to. I spun it slightly, then gave a few practice swings, smirking as Ralof gave a curse, "damn, it's locked. Why don't you try the other one?"

I nodded, then inspected the wooden grate that covered the hall's exit, a slit in the ground directly beneath it. Running my hands along the sides of it, I swore, "damn. No way to open the damn thing. Not from this side."

We stood in silence for a long ten seconds, then the sounds of footsteps began down the hall, making my ears twitch. Ralof cursed again, "Imperials! Hide!"

I slammed my back against the wall, gripping the axe in my hand with everything I had in me, the wood handle splintering, the miniscule strands digging into my skin, making me wince slightly with pain. I spared a glance at Ralof, and he brought his hand to his lips, a sign to keep me quiet.

"Open the door!" the captain's voice made me grate my teeth, my grip on my axe instinctively tightening as the sound of clanking chains reached my ears, and the grate began to lower.

I nodded at Ralof as he brought his axe to a point where he could swing properly.

Time for a little payback.

As soon as the first Imperial stepped through the door, I let out a roar, launching myself forwards and tackling the man to the ground. The blade of my axe sang as it swung through the air and bit into the Imperial bastard's shoulder, digging deep into the flesh as he let out a shout of pain, and kicked me in the shin. I stumbled as pain shot up my leg, and proceeded to bring my axe up, and down again through his armour and into his back, cutting into his spine and making his lower body go limp. I felt adrenaline surge through my veins as the Imperial's scream echoed in my ears, and I finished it with a final spray of blood through his split helmet and past where my axe blade had dug into the back of his skull, staining my new armour in crimson, the liquid running across my skin like I had just climbed out of a lake of the stuff. My breath came in slight gasps as I glanced over at Ralof, who was doing a fine job of fending off two more Imperials at the same time. I grinned, drawing the sword from my kill and plunging it into the first one's back, his shriek of pain rending the air even as he hit the ground. The captain spun to meet my gaze as I brought my axe in a sideways arc towards her neck, only for her to block it, her face twisted in a snarl as we pushed against one another, strength against strength - until Ralof brought the side of his axe into the side of her head. Her helmet flew across the room as she stumbled about, her sword abandoned, and I drove my foot into her abdomen, driving her back and knocking her to the floor. Even as she fell, I rushed up to her, pinning her arm down beneath my leg, my axe poised to strike as Ralof moved beside me, pinning down her other arm.

"My, how the tables have turned," I smirked, "not so tough now, are you, captain?"

She merely glared at me as I turned my gaze to Ralof, "is she of any importance to the Civil War?"

He shook his head, "not so far as I would know. I don't recognize her from any of the files we'd been shown."

I merely glanced down at the captain, then shrugged, "alright then. I'm going to save us the trouble right here and now."

Before Ralof could say anything else, before the captain in our grasp could even scream, my axe fell, biting through flesh and bone within an instant and staining the stone floor red. Looking away from the severed head, I began searching the Imperials for a key, clicking my tongue as I finally found it.

"Y... You killed them without freezing up."

I glanced up at Ralof, who's gaze was set on me, almost frozen, "only someone who has killed before could just do something like that without flinching."

I looked away from the Stormcloak before me, staring straight at the door, "let's just say it was a long time ago, and it's something I'm trying to leave behind, alright?"

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed, "we'll worry about that later. Right now, let's just get that door open."

Going down the staircase that followed soon afterwards, dust shaking down from the ceiling every few minutes. As the stairwell broke into a hallway, I got a single glimpse of two Imperials, the soldier from earlier - Hadvar - and Valkyrie running down another set of stairs before a piece of the ceiling collapsed, blocking the way forwards and my view of the two Imperials.

"Damn. Looks like there's no going that way," Ralof glanced about, inspecting the dragon's handiwork before turning to a nearby door, "come on, this way!"

Slipping the door open, it became apparent that it was some kind of storeroom, meant to house any and all supplies the fortress needed. Voices from further inside had my hands clench into fists, my broken and torn nails digging into my skin. I felt the blood drip from my hands as I felt my right one drift to my axe, caressing the blade before yanking it from my belt, charging in and letting it bite into the back of another Imperial captain's neck, his head almost totally severed before he even hit the ground. His partner, in a sudden burst of panic, charged, getting lucky, his sword biting into my shoulder with enough force to rip the muscle apart.

Okay. Now I was pissed.

I let out a roar as I grabbed onto the Imperial's arm before he could pull his sword back, pulling him down with me and using the momentum and the strength in my legs to throw him backwards into the fire pit in the corner. He shrieked with pain as I rolled to my feet, yanking his sword from my shoulder and glaring at him as he pulled himself from the coals and flames and stood, his body burned and pieces of his armour set aflame. I raised my arm to lash out, but he stiffened, his infernal squealing cut off by the sound of Ralof's axe biting into his spine, putting an end to his life.

"The way you killed these people, one would think you've been a Stormcloak for years," Ralof huffed, putting his axes at his sides. I followed suit, taking the soldier's sheath and putting the axe on one side of my belt, the sword on the other. Ralof glanced about, then pointed at a barrel, "check to see if there's any potions. Something tells me we'll need them."

I nodded, ripping the wood open and gathering all its contents, not even bothering to sort through them as I stuffed them in the side pouch of my cuirass. All I knew is that potions of any sort were usually useful, either to heal an ailment, grant an edge, or simply cause some extra bite of pain to your foes, and that was good enough for me.

"Did you get everything?"

"All of it," I nodded, "now let's go. This place won't last much longer before crashing down to earth."

Rushing down another set of stairs, the sounds of shouts, small-scale explosions, and screams became apparent in my ears. I felt myself tense as we came to the bottom, then felt my eyes widen, my blood run cold as Ralof's voice confirmed the nightmare before me.

"Trolls' blood..." he swore, "it's a torture chamber!"

I'll spare you the details of the bodies. What I will say is this; what I saw down there sent thrills of disgust through my body, the horrors that mankind was capable of forever burned into my mind. My gaze swept around the room, taking in the Stormcloak prisoners' losing battle against the Legion soldiers, streaks of lightning firing across the room from the hands of the hooded jailer, the sparks seeming to be maniacal, sadistic cackles.

I felt my jaw set, my pain disappear, my grip on my axe and sword tighten as I let out a roar, and threw myself into the fray, rushing directly at the hooded spellcaster. He barely had enough time to glance in my direction before I was upon him, but it was enough for him to change the focus of his spell to me. I felt pain and what felt like intense, blade-like flame course over and through my body as I took it in the chest, the stench of burning leather and flesh reaching my nostrils, but still I kept going, barreling through his spell and swinging my axe into the palm of his hand, the blade burying itself between his fore and middle fingers before splitting his hand almost entirely in two. He let out a squeal of sheer pain, and the spell exploded in a flash of lightning, my axe shattering, what was left of his hand charred to a featureless, bleeding crisp.

"Damn you!" he rasped, "you fucking bastard-"

I interrupted him by bringing my sword across his gut in a sideways slash, bisecting him and sending him crashing to the floor. I tossed away the burning wooden handle that was all that was left of my axe as he continued to scream, and kicked him in the side of the head, "shut up."

I turned my attention to the remaining two Imperials, who were struggling to fight off three Stormcloaks at once, including Ralof, and weren't doing that great a job of it.

I grinned, yanked the dagger from the belt of the dying man at my feet, and threw it; while I wasn't the best shot when it came to throwing weapons, I may as well have been old man Harkonnen himself. The dagger flew through the air, and bit deep into the first soldier's back; as soon as he crumpled, the first two Stormcloaks were upon him, his blood flowing like wine across the floor. As the other soldier turned to help his partner, Ralof saw his chance, and plunged both of his axes into the soldier's chest. The man didn't even scream as he went down, the blood that welled up in his throat drowning out his final words in a wet gurgle.

"Did you see the Jarl?" Ralof asked, stepping around the broken body his comrades had left on the bloody stone.

"No. Wasn't he with you?"

"He was. But then... agh," Ralof lost all use for words, and kicked at one of the corpses. He turned to one of the cages, "wait... it looks like something's in this cage."

I turned my gaze, and nearly threw up at the sight of the corpse within; its robes and skin were slimy with rot, the degenerating corpse having little on it besides its clothes and skin; the poor bastard had been starved to death. Its sunken eyes stared out past the bars that held it within, stared out into the empty space, as though searching for a way to see into the plains of Oblivion itself, and the skin, rough and thin as paper stretched out over his boney fingers and sunken chin, strands of hair straggling out over his forehead, and finally the full force of the putrescent stench hit me with every ounce of force it had, making my knees buckle and bring my hands to my nose, trying to block it out, but to little avail. I wretched, then forced my gaze to the larger cage, which had little more than equipment all around inside.

"See if you can find any lockpicks. We may need that gold when we get out," I hear Ralof say, and I barely held back a harsh retort before going inside the cage, sifting through the few bits of armour and weapons and picking out what I thought would be useful; a second axe. Several lockpicks. A book, a couple potions. But the thing that caught my eye was the massive iron greatsword in the corner of the cage. The blade itself more than three and a half feet in length, thinner at the tip of the blade and gradually widening until it suddenly flared out in a pair of prongs near the guard before shrinking into the base, flaring out again in a massive, curved guard meant for close combat. A simple hilt bound in leather was decorated merely by a simple iron ring in the middle of the dark wood, and the pommel was forged in a design similar to a crown. I thought it would have been heavy, but it was surprisingly light for its size - heavy enough to throw me off balance somewhat if I swung too far, but relatively easy to swing around.

A weapon meant for combat, simplicity at its finest. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Those were my only thoughts before I slung the massive blade onto my back, and the axe onto the loop on my belt, and finally the Imperial sword I'd taken into its sheath, which I had fastened to my side, right by the pouch I kept full of the supplies I'd gathered. As I strode out, one of the Stormcloaks finally got the poor bastard's cage open, and Ralof glanced at me. He gave a whistle, "you sure you aren't overdoing it with those? Two I can understand, but three weapons? One of them meant for both of your hands?"

"I can take it," I assured him, smirking, "besides, don't want the Imperials going around not knowing what they're messing with."

Ralof let out a chuckle, "I guess I can't argue with that. Now come on. Let's get out of here."

With that, all four of us ran through the halls of the keep prison, deeper underground until the keep walls gave way to the underground carvings of nature known as caverns, the sounds of dripping water keeping us on our toes as we kept going. Rounding the corner into a large, open room, another group of Imperials talking in hushed voices. As each Stormcloak by me drew their weapons, I grinned, and hefted the greatsword from my back. May as well give it a few swings while I had the chance.

Each of us let out a battle cry as we charged into the fray, catching the Imperials off guard and scattering them like a swarm of bees before the thunderstorm. I let out my pent up rage in the conflict, licking my lips clean of my own blood and the blood of my foes as I felt my new blade cleave through flesh and sinew, and felt satisfaction spread through my veins as it shattered their bones. As I drove my blade upwards into the stomach of the Imperial he leaped towards me, I stared into his eyes, watched the horror and fear spread through him as the life in him began to slip away, his soul's escape from its capsule heralded by his shout of pain before I dumped him onto the ground.

Then I felt pain shoot through my body as something buried itself in my shoulder, then another right beside it. I ducked just in time to dodge a third to the head, and glanced up just in time to see an arrow impale itself in my knee. I howled in pain as the arrow dug through the bone, then with rage as the Imperial took aim once again. Yanking the arrows out one by one, I charged at the bastard, ignoring the yowling pain in my leg and shoulder, not giving the man so much as an instant to fire as brought the blade down on his bow. It snapped in two, the arrow slipping in his grasp and somehow catching him in the eye. He howled with pain and sudden blindness, and I took my chance, bringing my sword down atop his head.

His leather helmet stood no chance against the tempered iron of my sword; if anything, it only made the man's end all the messier. Upon contact with the sword, his head caved in on itself, his helm obscuring the bloody mess that was what remained of his skull. The corpse swayed for an instant, then toppled backwards, crashing to earth with in a heap, his arrow falling from his hand and taking the blind mess of an eye with it. I glanced about the room to see if the others needed any help, then popped open one of the red bottles in my pouch. I gave it a sniff to make sure it wasn't a poison, then shrugged, and chugged it, a sour, yet pleasant taste overtaking my tongue and slipping down my eager throat. As the stuff hit my stomach, I felt my wounds numb, and begin to reverse, the muscle stitching itself shut. As soon as there was none left in the bottle, I let out a gasp for air, and smashed the bottle on the floor, the translucent red pieces scattering across the room. I looked at the others, and tossed each of them a potion from the bag, and they all drank gratefully, their wounds healing, but the blood remaining, stained on their cuirasses and drying on their hands, reminding us of what we were.

_Murderer!_

The accusation echoed through the past and broke into my mind as I stared at the broken corpse before me, making me shudder with sudden waves of fear, anger and regret that washed over me from the past. I glanced at each of the others to see if they'd noticed, but Ralof, having swiped a bow off one of the other Imperials had them distracted, talking about finding a way out, while they agreed to stay behind to see if the Jarl came through.

I then shook my head, smiling bitterly. How far would I have to go to bury my past?

Ralof clapped his hand down on my shoulder, gesturing further into the caverns, "come on. Let's see if we can find a way out."

I nodded, swinging my blade back up onto my back, and followed him into a makeshift hallway, complete with a sort of drawbridge attached to a lever. Ralof stepped forwards, fingering the lever, "I wonder where this goes. You think we can get out this way?"

I shrugged, grabbing hold of it, "worth a try."

Ralof grabbed a hold, and we both pulled down, and the drawbridge crashed down, spanning across the gap further into the caverns. The whole place shook, and we ran forwards, getting across the bridge and breaking into more cavern right as the arch-like ceiling came crashing down. We glanced back at the broken stone, and Ralof sighed "no going back that way now. Come on. The others will have to find another way out."

I didn't argue. We started into the caves, not looking back the whole time as we followed the stream of water into the shadows. It wasn't long before we hit a dead end, but a second tunnel branched off from the side, allowing us to progress further into the stone. Rounding a corner, it quickly opened up into another cavern, and light blazed down from a hole in the ceiling. I grinned, pointing up, "you see that?"

He grinned as the light caught his gaze, "ha! Light! We might be going the right way after all! Now we just... oh."

"What's wrong?" I asked before following his gaze. Webs decorated almost every inch of the back wall, way too huge to be a colony of normal, bite-sized spiders. Dried, desecrated corpses from the size of a small dog to fully grown men wrapped from head to toe in webbing hung in the webs, as though done in some kind of sick ritual to prepare the dead for burial.

Only one kind of animal could make something of this magnitude from sheer webbing.

"Frostbite spiders," I hissed, drawing my axe and sword as two of the creatures dropped down from the cavern roof. A dull rust in colour, the things were large enough to kill a man with a single swipe of its serrated front legs if it were to somehow get lucky. Eight legs, spindly for the size of the beasts, but thick around as a man's fist made dull thuds on the earth as they started towards us, their black eyes glinting in the light, their maws opening and closing with sickening clicks as they reared up and spat a glob at us each, the poison splattering on the ground and giving off a light hiss.

I didn't even flinch before charging forwards, blood glinting on my blades within an instant as the first two legs were severed from the body. It let out what I assumed was an attempt at shrieking in pain before lunging forwards, missing me mere inches as it tried to plunge its fangs into my neck. I cursed, then satisfied its hunger by driving my sword into its waiting maw, impaling it all the way up to the hilt. It struggled vainly as I began hacking at the top of its head, again and again, the blade of my axe biting into it, until finally, it fell limp.

I sighed with relief, and the sounds of metal cutting flesh reached my ears again, and the corpse of the other spider fell at my side. I jumped back, startled, and turned to Ralof, "don't. Do that!"

"Sorry," he managed through his breaths. When he finally got enough breath to speak again, he put his axes to his sides, "I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?"

"Agreed," I stated simply, kicking the corpse away and walking into another tunnel; now that I had a closer look, the hole that let in the sunlight was too small for either of us to fit.

Still, it meant we were close to the surface.

We continued into yet another open cavern, this one massive in comparison to the ones before. Crossing the stream, Ralof reached out and gripped my shoulder, bringing us both down into a crouch, "hold up! There's a bear over there. You see her?" he pointed, and dead ahead, lay a massive creature, fur black as night, a silhouette in the darkness of the cavern. Ralof removed the bow from his back, "I'd rather not tangle with her right now. Let's try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch your step. Or," he held the bow out to me, as well as a quiver full of black-tipped arrows, "if you're feeling lucky, you can try this bow. Might take her by surprise," I glanced back at him, and he gestured forwards, pressing the weapons into my hands, "go ahead. I'll follow your lead, and watch your back."

I swallowed, and took the bow from him, slinging it and the arrows across my back, but making sure it didn't interfere with my greatsword. I grated my teeth, then began to move as quietly as I could into the cavern, keeping my eye on the bear as I made my way around. I swallowed, sweat and blood pouring off my body and dripping to the stone floor, each drip echoing in my ears and making me flinch. But progress, no matter how slow, was being made; with every step, we got closer to the next tunnel, hopefully the final stretch to freedom.

"We're almost there. You're doing great," Ralof assured me, and I kept going. As we came around the final stretch, I grinned.

Ralof nodded with satisfaction, and moved on ahead, standing up straight from his crouch. As I stood to follow him, a small pile of rocks shifted beneath my feet, scattering about the earth. A large, beastial snarl reached my ears, and I felt my face contort as I cursed myself.

Ralof and I spun just in time to see the bear charge, surprisingly swift for its size. As it neared us, it reared up on its hind legs, its massive paw barreling into me and knocking me flat on my back, forcing the air from my lungs. I wheezed, and suddenly pain shot across my face as the bear brought its claws down across my face. I let out a shout, gripping at my wounds, my fingers slipping into the fresh wounds that lay in a diagonal across my face, a total of five long claw marks; the smallest on either side, the bottommost one splitting into my chin and lip, the one on the very top almost reaching my left eye. The bottom of the three middle ones lay over top of my lip and just below my nostrils, blood dripping up into my nose and down into my mouth, making me choke, and the final two marks reached across the bridge of my nearly broken nose and nearly to my right cheek. All five of these marks reached from across my left jaw and over my cheek, making blood run down my neck and across my face.

While it was just a glancing blow, I knew it was going to leave some painful scars.

I opened my eyes to stare at the bear as it raised its claw for one last finishing blow - only for Ralof to bring his axes into its shoulder, making it roar in pain, shaking its body with a vehement flare of rage as it tried to shake him off. Still he held on, yanking out one axe and swinging into the bear again, his face twisted in a snarl, "no you don't!"

The bear reared up again, and backswiped its claw into Ralof, driving him away and forcing him to let go of his axes. He tumbled across the ground, and the bear began to stalk towards him, slowly as he struggled to all fours.

I struggled for breath, continuing to clutch at my face as I glared at the beast that was approaching the Stormcloak. No way was I just going to watch and let a friend of mine get butchered. Never again!

I let out a beastial roar of my own, and rushed the black beast before me, barreling into it, driving every ounce of force in my body into the beast through my shoulder. To my surprise, it fell sideways several feet away, landing on the axes and driving the blades further into its body. It snarled again, scrabbling for traction as it struggled to get back to its feet.

Totally disregarding my weapons, I launched myself at the animal as it reared up on its hind legs, dodging under its swipe and delivering a fist to its ribs. I felt the bones snap beneath my attack as the bear tipped backwards and landed hard on its back again, letting out a bellow of pain as the axe blades were driven even further into its back.

I threw myself on top of the bear, pinning down its forelegs as best I could before beginning to bludgeon it about the jaw, blood splattering across my fists with every strike that connected, until finally it threw me off. I rolled across the ground, and it caught me across the back with another blow, sending me into one of the larger rocks. It charged as I got to my knees, and Ralof once again managed to pull my ass from the fire as an arrow bit deep into the side of the bear's head, sending it off course just enough for me to get out of the way. With a resounding smash, it rammed itself into the stone and crumpled on the ground, barely keeping its upper body level on its forelegs, struggling for breath.

Never wasting a single instant, I drew my axe, and plunged it into the bear's right leg, and it buckled, bringing it down onto its belly. Letting go of the axe for the moment, I vaulted over the bear, drawing my sword and stabbing it down into its left leg, making sure it would stay down. Another bellow of agony sounded from the bear's jaws, even as I climbed onto its back, grabbing onto either side of its head and wrenching it upwards to give myself a better grip. I grated my teeth as the bear struggled, and both of us, both man and beast let out a final roar as I gripped the top and bottom of the bear's head, and jerked it about, the hand gripping its scalp going downwards, the other on the bottom of its jaw going upwards, twisting the bear's head in a final, violent movement.

Almost immediately, the bear fell limp, all sounds cut off, its body giving the occasional twitch as I inspected my handiwork, feeling the back of the neck.

There was no doubt. It was finally dead.

After all, I'd snapped its neck with my bare hands.

I let out a sigh of relief before climbing off its back and yanking my sword and axe out of its body, putting each in its place before glancing at Ralof. His breath was just as ragged as mine, staring at the fallen beast with disbelief dominant in his eyes. He stuttered, "no way... you... you killed it with your bare hands. You just... snapped its neck," he let out a slight laugh, a smile pulling at his lips, "that... that was amazing!"

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly, "I honestly don't know what came over me. If I had any sense to me in the slightest, I'd have just run for it," I yanked the twin axes out of its back and tossed each to Ralof.

"I'm sure glad you don't then. I wouldn't want to be stuck fighting that thing on my own with nothing but a bow," Ralof grinned. Then he gestured further into the cavern, "there's light ahead. I think it's a way out. Come on... Rorik, was it?"

I shook my head as I followed him, "no. That was a fake name, one Valkyrie, the redhead from before made up on the spot. Trying to help me get out of execution, I guess. Had a look on her face that told me she didn't like senseless killing."

"That might just be a sign that she's sweet on you," he laughed at the sudden look of discomfort on my face as the crevice that was our exit finally came into view, "relax, I'm just kidding. Who'd want _her_ to be sweet on them? Even better, who'd be sweet on you, with _your_ ugly mug?"

"Someone who appreciates that I can probably save their ass in a tight spot," I shot back, grinning, "and I might be ugly, but at least I'm not downright hideous, like you are!"

At that, we both burst out into laughter, doubled over as we stumbled towards the exit. As we finally drew near, Ralof turned back to me, his face solemn again, "if that wasn't your name, then what is your name?"

I stopped, staring out into the bright sunlight. Memories washed over me again, and I sighed, "our family has a certain tradition. We are given a name at birth, but when we find our craft, or when we first commit an act worthy of telling over and over again in stories, we choose our own name," I turned back to Ralof, "maybe that's why I came back to Skyrim. To finally choose my own name."

"Alright. But you must be called something. What is it?" he pressed, leaning against the stone.

I bit into the side of my tongue, then sighed again, "my father named me after one of the great High Kings of Skyrim, one known for his abilities in conquest and warfare... as well as his ruthless, inhumane tactics in combat. He named me after High King Fenric, of the First Era," I turned to Ralof, who immediately paled at the mention of the King of the Broken Skull war. I nodded, "yeah. My old man had the guts to name me after someone many consider to be a monster. Until I earn the right to decide my own name, my name... is Fenric."

There was a short silence as Ralof took that in. Then he sighed, "well... seeing as you didn't choose that name for yourself, I can't really see you as a monster. Not after you saved my life," he chuckled, scratching at the back of his head, "who knows? You might even prove the name to be one of valor rather than one of evil. Besides... a name isn't what makes a man."

I nodded, smiling, "I'm glad to see you think that way. There's a lot of people who disagree with that sentiment," I pointed out to the light, "now come on. Something tells me we have a lot of ground to cover, and not much time to do so."


	3. An Imperial's Blade

I do not own the Elder Scrolls. The main characters, however, I do own. This chapter is a slight rewind from the end of the last one, Helgen keep told from Valkyrie's perspective. Just clarifying that before anyone gets confused.

* * *

VALKYRIE

Hadvar fumbled with the bolt lock until he finally managed to seal the door that was the only thing that kept the dragon from sticking its hideous, demonic head into the keep and frying us alive in a blaze of flame. Even as he gasped for breath, I stumbled, and fell to my knees, barely supporting myself on my hands, my head giving a constant, throbbing beat of pain, caused, in a twist of bitter irony, by the steady beat of my heart, blood pumping through my skull and sending pain shooting through my head anew as I tried to piece together everything that had happened. First, I saw the white-haired Nord, barely three years into adulthood, step up to the block, pity giving a light pang off my heart. Then, the sound of beating wings. Then that roar... and the pain, that shrieking pain that seemed to threaten to break me, something I hadn't felt since... since... that nightmare. Next, the chase through Helgen, the boy at my side. Our argument over whether or not to follow Hadvar. The Imperials as they tried to regroup and combat the threat, the Stormcloak scum as they used the opportunity to escape. Then finally, my entrance into the keep with Hadvar, to where I kneel now.

"S... So your white haired friend didn't come with us?"

At this, I stiffened, and shot to my feet, my gaze shooting about the nearly empty room, searching, only to find little more than beds, some equipment, and some chests.

I swore under my breath. The idiot had either gone and gotten himself killed by the damn dragon... or gone with the Stormcloak from earlier!

I took in a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts. Of course he would have gone with the Stormcloak. He'd made his disdain for the Empire clear before. Why would he follow us and hide it now, so long after he'd done that?

"Because he might get himself killed by the Empire for being involved with the Stormcloaks," I muttered, shaking my head, not realizing I'd said it out loud for a long few seconds before glancing to see if the Imperial soldier had noticed. I smirked with relief, then shook my head bitterly. Why did everything have to be so damn confusing?

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," Hadvar stated, leaning against the wall as he at last began to catch his breath.

I felt my eyes narrow, "don't be so stupid. There's other survivors. That Stormcloak and the white-haired kid, to name a couple."

He took in deeper and deeper breaths as he calmed, taking my words into consideration. As though trying to keep himself from losing any more logical footing, he quickly changed the subject, his eyes taking on a steely, yet panicked glint, "was that really a dragon? The Bringers of the End Times?"

I rolled my eyes slightly, then spoke again, "yeah. That was a dragon, alright. I couldn't really think of anything else that had those particular features."

He nodded, then took out a dagger, "we should keep moving. Come here; let me see if I can get those bindings off."

I smirked, finally seeing a glimmer of sense through the insanity of the situation, and held out my hands, reveling in the feeling of the rope rubbing against my skin as my bonds were cut, and the familiar freedom of movement was allowed to my arms again.

"There you go," Hadvar gave a light smile, though it was forced, heavy with confusion and sorrow as the place shook again, a reminder of what he was losing, both in comrades and what may have once been like home to him, if not an actual home. He gestured about the room, "take a look around. There should be plenty of gear to choose from."

I didn't even wait for him to finish. I strode to the nearest chest, and began digging through its contents, yanking out a dagger and a sword, neither in particularly good condition, the leather armour inside reduced to rags. Throwing it back in with disgust, I checked the next chest.

Empty. As was the next, and the one after that, besides a pair of leather bracers.

I grated my teeth, then picked up the chest at my feet, and hurled it across the room, the weakened wood splintering as it crashed into the stone wall, "do you Imperials have _any _armour or weapons that are in even _remotely _good condition?!" I hissed, a startled Hadvar quickly backing away as fast as he could, his eyes whipping from me, to the broken chest, to me again. I snorted, clicking my tongue against my teeth, muttering a quick apology, then turned my gaze to the final chest in the room. Unlike the others, this one was somewhat ornately carved, gleaming with a recent polish, besides the few spots where dust had fallen onto the burnished wood and gleaming black metal.

As I started towards it, Hadvar started "I wouldn't go digging through that."

"Why not?" my fingers traced the padlock on the chest, then I stood, searching the chests again for a lockpick, or something similar.

"That's the captain's chest, her personal armory if you will. If you go digging through that-"

"If she's still alive, then too bad for her," I snapped, cutting him off, "if she's dead, then she won't be needing any of it anyways."

Upon not finding anything to pick the lock with, I strode back to the chest, snapping my fingers and holding out a hand to Hadvar as I got to one knee, "I need your dagger."

"Look," he insisted, "it isn't a good idea to go through a captain's-"

"I wasn't asking, Hadvar," I turned my head to glare at him, my voice dropping to a low growl, "so let's try that again, shall we? Dagger. Now."

He swallowed, then turned to look at the broken chest before finally consenting, handing me the iron dagger at his belt. I glanced at it, flipped it in my hand, and jammed the blade into the black metal, sparks casting themselves onto the floor as the metal of both lock and dagger buckled slightly under the force of the stab. I grinned at the prospect, and Hadvar gave a slight flinch as I yanked the dagger out and drove it back in, this time breaking the lock open enough for me to just pry it off the rest of the way. As I opened the chest, I handed the blunt, bent dagger back to Hadvar, who looked at it almost mournfully. I stared at it for an instant, then rubbed at the back of my head, "look, I'm sorry about my attitude, and the dagger, alright? But what do you expect me to use to open this thing, my fists? And I am not going in to fight without a set of proper armour, and some kind of weapon."

He hesitated, then gave a curt nod, and I opened the chest all the way to reveal a set of Imperial armour, a mixture of steel and leather that would offer nothing less than a solid basis for protection, as well as a gleaming Imperial blade that gave a glint in the dim light. I grinned, taking out the chest piece and unbuckling the straps, before something important occurred to me. I turned to Hadvar, my eyes nearly slit, "do you mind?"

For an instant, he tilted his head, not really seeming to get it. Then, as realization of what I meant dawned on him, his face gradually turned a shade of red that put the fires of the Red Mountain to shame, and he bolted around the corner, shouting "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

I smirked, shaking my head slightly at the man's naive behavior, and then let out a sigh of relief as I shifted into the steel of the Imperial armour, the weight of the steel across my body a small comfort in all that had transpired. I strode out to Hadvar, the sword and a bag of gold hanging at the belt around my waist, a helmet under my arm and finishing buckling the second bracer into place. As soon as I finished, I smirked, and tossed him the helmet, "congratulations, Hadvar. That helmet means you've been promoted to captain."

He caught it, then gave a slight smile, "I don't think I'm going to understand you any time soon."

"I doubt anyone will," I licked at my lips, glancing at the now unbarred hallway that was the way ahead. I gestured for him to follow as he donned the helm, "come on. Let's get going."

"Alright," he pulled ahead of me, "this way."

Coming across a wooden grate that barred the way ahead, another voice sounded - Nordic, judging from the accent, "we've got to keep moving! That dragon is tearing apart the whole keep!"

"J... Just give me a minute. I'm out of breath," another voice, a young woman's rang in my ears, as Hadvar pulled the chain that was beside the grate, and the wooden beams began to lower into the earth.

"Hear that?" Hadvar glanced at me, and I nodded. His face was a stone mask of grim resolve as he spoke, "Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them."

"I doubt it," I crossed my arms, "that Stormcloak... Ralof... Yeah, that's his name, Ralof. He didn't seem very willing to reason to me."

His face contorted slightly with rage and regret, then reverted back to the mask, "nonetheless, it may be our best chance with that dragon around."

I didn't gratify him with a response as I stepped into the room, facing the two Stormcloak soldiers, two flashes of blue in the dim light with their armour. As soon as the two of them saw me, they drew their weapons, and rushed at me, their faces twisted into snarls.

"So much for reasoning," I muttered, drawing my blade and raising it just in time to block the first Stormcloak's attack, a young woman with a warhammer, while kicking the other in the abdomen, driving him away as Hadvar attacked, locking each of us in a one on one conflict. I grated my teeth before risking letting go of my sword, only keeping their attack at bay with one hand, my right arm screaming with exertion as I began to focus, my left hand growing warm with power. I licked at my teeth as the familiar flickering of flames licking at my fingers sounded, and I dodged to the side, the Stormcloak's warhammer falling to the ground and bringing them down with it, having put too much strength into her attack. Even as she struggled to rise, I released my spell, the flames coating her cuirass in a single spray, almost as if it were a cloak. She screamed as she thrashed about, trying to put the flames out, and I drove my sword into the back of her neck, eager to ensure her permanent silence. I spared a glance to see how Hadvar was faring against his opponent before extinguishing the flame in my hand, hefting the warhammer with my now free hand, and driving it into the back of the remaining Stormcloak's skull with all my might.

Blood, bone and gore alike splattered across the ground before the corpse even began to fall, Hadvar's face a mask of shock as he looked down at his blood-coated uniform. Releasing my grip on the warhammer, I checked the bodies for anything useful. It wasn't long before Hadvar's voice rang in my ears again, "how... how could you?"

I glanced up at him to see him backing away, his movements slow and jerky, as though he had to remind himself how to move, "y-you... you just... as if they weren't even people... like they were animals in a slaughterhouse. You butchered them!"

I remained silent for a long few seconds, then stood. I stepped towards him, my arms crossed, "when you grow up the way I did, when bandits could attack at any time, you need to learn to kill quickly, with no regrets," for every step I took forwards, he took one backwards, until finally he'd been pressed against the wall, no escape from what I was about to tell him. I continued the lecture, "in warfare, you have to do so on principle. Kill, or be killed, Hadvar. My father beat that into my bones for when I was ready to go out on my own. Do you want to know what it was like for me, with my first kill?" I paused, making sure his eyes were locked with mine, and I noticed that I was slightly taller than he was. Even as he shook his head, muttering 'no' over and over again under his breath, I kept going, "it was my father. He was nearing old age, and I was almost an adult. One night, me and my family were all at the table, eating dinner. In the middle of our meal, he stood, and said he wanted to show me something. I followed him to his room, and he locked the door. He took out a sword, and threw it to me, saying 'tonight, neither of us leaves this room unless the other one dies.' I didn't understand until he took out his own sword, from the Great War with the Aldemeri Dominion," his eyes were locked with mine as his body trembled, his mouth wide but fallen silent, "I didn't even think that night. I just moved. It was my life or his. I chose mine."

I fell silent for a long few seconds, allowing time for Hadvar to process what he was hearing. He swallowed, and I began the final stretch of my lecture, "that night, my mother, brother and sister refused to believe my claim, even as I grieved alongside them by his body. They called me a murderer, and drove me out of my home, sending guards and hired thugs soon afterwards to try and either kill or imprison me. It didn't matter which. Either way, the more I had to kill, the easier it became - exactly what my father had wanted, so I could fight and kill with no remorse. So believe me when I say this," I grabbed his wrist, "in combat, you have to choose, Hadvar. Do yourself a favor, and become the killer, rather than the victim."

More silence as Hadvar stood, trying to come up with some kind of answer. Finally, he blurted "I knew all that before, concerning the war and all, but... but that doesn't explain why you had to kill them the way you did. It was like they weren't even people to you."

I glanced at the corpses, then shrugged, "I didn't know them, and I didn't particularly care either. That, and I've been killing anyone who's gotten the idea of attacking me for so long that it doesn't make much of a difference to me anymore. So, no. I guess they weren't."

I released his wrist as his body went slack, and waited for him to bring himself back from the little plane of Oblivion that was his overloaded mind. It was a long few minutes until he finally spoke again, "l... let's just go. I'll... I'll see if I can get that door open."

A few more jerky, shuffling movements later, he'd finally gotten the door open, and we began to descend the steps downwards, his movements slowly becoming more fluid, more determined and confident with every passing second, but still he avoided my gaze. As we reached the bottom, stairwell opened up into corridor, and I caught a glimpse of two more flashes of blue - the Stormcloak Ralof, and the white haired Nord, decked out in the Stormcloak cuirass and coated head to toe in blood. I stiffened as our eyes locked, his piercing blue and my own a darkened amethyst, and another roar echoed from above. Almost immediately, the ceiling began to crumble. The stone crashed down in the center of the hallway, ensuring no exchange between either side of the pile of rocks.

"Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy," Hadvar muttered, placing his hand on the rocks before gesturing to the stairs again, "come on. There's a way to get further down if we can find a way to get a section of the wall open."

"And you know this how?" I pressed, running my hand along the wall, searching for any loose grooves that may lead to a way out.

"I was put in charge of sealing the passages up in the keep," he explained quickly as he began a thorough search of each groove in the bricks, "I closed the entrances off, but didn't altogether seal them up; I thought they may be useful in the future. Damn well seems like I was right," his eyebrows furrowed as he began muttering under his breath, "come on... it should be right... ah, there we go!"

A note of triumph entered his voice as he ran his fingers inside a particularly deep groove. He grunted as he gripped the edge, and pulled with all his might, a continuous groan of exertion escaping his lips. Slowly, it began to move... but not fast enough. Not for my liking.

I moved up beside him and added my own grip to the edge, yanking at it with every ounce of force in my body, and immediately progress picked up. It wasn't long before it was all the way open, and a tunnel descending further into the fortress was now exposed. Hadvar went first, yanking a torch from the wall and descending into the dark, "follow me. This passage should lead to one of the lower storerooms."

I complied, drawing my blade as the darkness closed in around us, all except for the torch in Hadvar's hand. A few minutes later, we hit a dead end, and Hadvar stated "okay. Once we get this open, we'll be that much closer to getting out of here."

Without another word, I sheathed my blade, and pushed up against the dead end, Hadvar right beside me. I grated my teeth as stone grated against stone and squealed in my ears, but light soon poured into the small hallway, and more voices rang in my ears.

I spat into the corner to sate my frustration. More Stormcloaks.

As soon as the opening was wide enough for the both of us, Hadvar charged forwards, catching the two Stormcloaks by surprise and knocking one of them to the ground, a sword stuck in his chest. The Imperial officer cursed as his sword stuck fast between the first one's ribs, and the second raised his greatsword, bringing it down with a battle cry-

-only for his sword to clatter to the ground, the sudden weight of the blade too much for his remaining hand. He let out a shriek as he gripped at his arm, the severed hand convulsing before settling beneath the hilt of the sword, giving the occasional twitch before I grabbed the hilt with my free hand, the appendage tumbling across the floor. I lifted the greatsword as the Stormcloak stumbled back, and drove both swords into his body.

He stood no chance of survival.

I sighed as I yanked the weapons out of the bleeding corpse, one at a time, placing my first sword into its sheath before looking over the greatsword. Simple in design, nothing fancy, but still an easily dangerous weapon.

I chewed slightly at my lip, the familiar taste of blood filling my mouth after a few seconds, as well as a light, ringing pain in my mouth, then slung the blade over my shoulder and onto my back. May as well get some use out of it.

"See if you can find anything of use," Hadvar huffed, striding to the door, trying to ignore the brutal condition of the bodies, "I'll get the door open."

I nodded, then proceeded to tear open the barrels, one by one, taking whatever I thought would be useful to us, mainly whatever potions I found, to heal, poison or otherwise. As soon as I had collected all of the potions, I strode towards Hadvar, who asked "done then?" he opened the door as soon as I held up the supplies, and he continued through, "this way."

Another corridor, and shouts penetrated the air, echoing in my ears. Hadvar grimaced as we descended the steps, "the torture room. Gods, I wish we didn't need these..."

As soon as the room came into veiw, shock shot through my body. A trio of Stormcloaks stood around a table, laughing as they drove the various torture implements they wielded into the Imperial they had strapped down, his screams rending the air as they continued to work. One of them grinned as he began to saw off one of the man's remaining fingers, "damn, I'm glad Ralof brought that white-haired boy along! He fights like a Daedra!"

"Like an agent of Dagon himself," another agreed, stretching the man's other arm out. I felt my stomach lurch as I got a look at his hand - or rather, what remained of it, a blackened, charred stump, soaking in the man's own blood, "he's the reason we're even getting this chance at payback. Without him, this bastard would've killed us all."

The soldier began sawing at the top of the stump with a dull, rusty knife, making more blood gush from the wound, the snap of bone cutting through the air. The man howled, and the Stormcloaks burst out into hideous laughter again.

"You twisted Stormcloak bastards!" another voice roared, and I turned to see three more Imperials trapped inside a much larger cage, gripping the bars, their teeth grit, "you will not get away from this unpunished! You will be brought to justice for your crimes!"

One of the Stormcloaks put down his tools, and strode over to the cage, staring the Imperials right in the eyes before a disgusting horking sound erupted from his throat, and he spat directly into the man's eye, "you Imperial scum brought this on yourselves."

The Imperial shouted with rage as the Stormcloak turned on his heel, and picked up a bowl of salt. Gathering a bunch of it in his hand, began to rub it into the man's wounds. The tortured man whimpered as the Stormcloak continued to work the salt into the openings, "you tortured and killed our comrades, you Imperial son of a bitch. Now, we're giving you our payment... with tax and interest, of course, courtesy of the Stormcloak citizens."

They all laughed at the Stormcloak soldier's sickening wit, and I glanced at Hadvar. The poor man was shaking, his eyes unfocused as he took in the scene before him. I felt my own eyes narrow, my hands clench, "killing I can understand," I hissed, "vengeance I can understand... But this?" I reached to my back, drawing the greatsword, "this is something I will not stand for!" I shouted, bolting towards the Stormcloaks, my teeth grit as I brought the sword across, severing the head of the first soldier, dropping dead before the others even realized what was happening. Blood splattered across the floor and the cuirasses of his comrades, and they simply stood there, shocked, unable to react to the scene before them. I let out a roar, and swung my blade again, catching the arm of the first and severing it from the body. He squealed like a dying pig, gripping at the bleeding stump of an arm as he fell to the ground, his blood pouring out onto the already bloodstained stone. The final one finally reacted, raising his battleaxe and swinging it down onto my greatsword, surprisingly powerful for a foot soldier. A short struggle of strength, and I found myself backing away, my greatsword lowered as he swung the axe for my neck. I pulled back, and he continued to swing at me, my nimbleness barely compensating for his speed and the strength behind his attacks. I grated my teeth, dropping my greatsword and grabbing the sword at my hilt, barely parrying his axe in time to prevent my own arm from being severed. Taking what little oppurtunity I had, I drove my foot into the Stormcloak's abdomen, throwing him away slightly, his grip on his axe loosening before I drove my sword into his lung. He wheezed in pain, and I felt my hands give off sparks as I grabbed onto his face, allowing fire to course over his head and torso. I watched his skin disintegrate beneath the flames, his flesh coiling and contracting on itself, his mouth and throat charring themselves shut before he even had a chance to scream.

I let go of the burning corpse - or, as far as I was concerned, what was a corpse - and turned to the man on the table, looking over his wounds. I felt my eyes narrow in a mixture of pity and anger as he whimpered, trying to pull as far away from me as possible. It was pointless for anyone here to try and help him - his wounds were far too severe for any magic I had at my disposal, and even if I did have something that could save him, his mind had been shattered by his pain. There is no cure for madness.

"There's nothing that we can do to save him, is there?"

I turned to Hadvar, who stood by the now released Imperial soldiers, their hands stained red by the remaining Stormcloak, the one who's arm I'd severed. The one that they'd killed.

I merely turned back to the tortured man, my sword glinting in the light thrown by the torches as I hefted it.

A downwards swing, and the man's suffering was ended, the blood of yet another person staining my hands.

I turned to the others, and all except Hadvar immediately backed away, as though in fear.

I couldn't blame them. But all the same, I wasn't about to just sit back and let them run.

"Alright. Listen up," I stared into each one of their eyes as they averted their gaze, their fear overpowering them as I spoke, "I don't know where your captain is, and I don't really care. But until we get out of this fortress, I'm in command. Do any of you have a problem with that?"

None of them moved to deny me, or even opened their mouths to protest. I nodded, satisfied, then started further into the keep, and they hesitantly followed. Stone fortress quickly gave way to cavern, and signs of a battle came into view; several Imperial corpses, though no Stormcloaks accompanied them, dead or alive.

"They must have all run off," I muttered, "either that, or we killed them all."

I strode over the bodies without a second thought, and stopped dead, glaring ahead at the tunnel that would have led out of the fortress.

The one that was choked up with rubble.

As I ran my hand along the stone, one of the soldiers let out a shout of anger, kicking at a rock and sending it flying across the room, "Gods damn it! Damn it all!" I let my gaze shift to him as he broke down into a wordless rage, falling to his knees and smashing his fist into the stone, as though trying to break through the ground. He went on for a good ten seconds before letting out a final shriek, and falling silent, the only sounds being his light, wracking sobs.

Without a second thought, I strode up to him, a glaring glint in my eyes as I grabbed him by the shoulders, and yanked him to his feet. He gave a light yelp in surprise before he caught my gaze, his sobs dying in his throat. As I released him, he scrambled backwards, and I sighed, "are you done?"

"Give him a moment, for pity's sake!"

I slowly turned my gaze to the other soldier, who was breathing hard with clear anger. He pointed at the man who was now backed as far away from me as he could be, "he just lost his friends and a part of his family. Are you that heartless that you don't understand what that is worth?!" he took a step forwards, a glint accompanying his tears of rage, "I'd like to see you do better."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in pity, "you don't understand the magnitude of this, do you?" I stepped forwards, and almost immediately he backed away, suddenly fearful, "if we don't get out of this fortress soon, there will be no time for mourning. We'll be dead," he shrank away with a gulp as he realized how much I towered over him, his hand inching towards his blade. I shook my head, then turned back to the rock, "how long do you think it will take us to clear this out?"

"At least a couple of days," Hadvar stated, rubbing at the back of his head as he glanced throughout the room, "but I think that one of the passages may offer a way forwards."

He began searching the walls, biting at his lip in concentration as he searched. Finally, he found a crack, and began digging at it, pulling at it to get it open.

I gestured to the others, and we all began yanking at the section of the wall, tearing the bricks from one another until finally the tunnel was dug through. Hadvar gave a light frown, as though confused, "odd... I thought I sealed this up better than this..." he shook his head, "I don't think it was opened up recently... but let's hurry. Just to be safe."

I nodded, and then we pushed forwards into the tunnel. Finally, it opened up into a cavern, a small stream rushing along through the dark of the cavern, through the cracks into the earth below. Feeling my eyes narrow, my eyebrows furrowing, I motioned forwards before drawing my sword, flame once again cracking to life in my hand and acting as a light in the shadow.

"I remember this place," Hadvar stated, suddenly somewhat jovial, "this... there's a way out this way!"

I looked back, a slight smile pulling at my lips, "you're sure?"

He nodded vehemently, a smile crossing his face, "certain."

At his words, the other Imperials immediately brightened, all signs of sorrow wiped away by their evident joy. I nodded, "just remember, we aren't out of the woods yet. We can celebrate once we're out of these caverns," I held up the bag of gold I had taken from the chest, smirking as their gazes focused on the leather, the jingle of coins echoing in the dark, "tell you what... when we reach the next town, drinks are on me. Agreed?"

The three Imperials shouted in agreement, and Hadvar shook his head slightly, scratching at his forehead before I fastened the bag back to my waist and stepped forwards into the next cavern. Almost immediately, three things caught my eye; the first was the ray of light shining down from a hole in the ceiling. The second was the utter tangle of webs that coated the wall of the room, the smashed open eggs of spiders releasing their foul stench, their spawn having long ago left their cocoons. The last sight were the pair of massive, grotesque bodies that sat on the ground before me, the venom that would drip from their fangs gone dry, their bead-like black eyes gone dull.

"Frostbite spiders," Hadvar confirmed as I knelt down to inspect the bodies, running my hand along the edges of the wounds.

I felt my eyes narrow with something akin to frustration as I traced the wounds, my jaw setting on itself.

Someone had already been here.

"Whoever it was, it didn't get them all," one of the Imperials stated grimly, "whatever you do, make no sudden movements. Back away slowly, and do NOT look up."

I glanced back at the man, who was sluggishly drawing his bow, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he licked at his lips. Feeling the flames spark to life once more, I began to do as he said, backing away from the corpse, slowly turning my gaze upwards.

As soon as I saw it, I regretted it; the thing I was looking at was absolutely repulsive, an arachnophobic's worst nightmare come to life. Clinging onto the roof with all eight of its spindly legs, rust coloured hair jutted out from each and every one of its joints, shaking slightly as the thing shifted its weight. Its eight eyes gleamed brightly, black marbles in the dim light, and its clawed mandibles clicked together every few seconds, drips of saliva falling from the tips of its fanged maw. As its bulky body once again shifted, I lost all thought. I swung my arm wildly, hurling the flame into the creature.

It let out a sound akin to a hiss as the fire collided with its body, losing its grip on the ceiling and smashing into the floor, its limbs thrashing about in all directions as it attempted to right itself.

The next few seconds were little more than a blur to me, a frenzied flurry of movement and blood. I leaped atop its body without a second thought, plunging my sword through its body and pinning it to the earth like a moth to the wall. As the thing writhed with pain, I twisted the blade further into its body, and its hisses grew further in volume, its limbs thrashing wildly through the air and striking me in the back of the head. I felt my eye give a long, slow twitch, and released my grip on my normal Imperial blade in favor of my greatsword, and with a roar, cleaved off half of its limbs with a single swing. The spider let out something akin to a shriek as another swing cost it the rest of them. It continued, blazing, grinding against my eardrums as I impaled the creature once again, further pinning it to the ground, even as I leaped away, my hands coated in flame.

Even as it ignited, the fire reducing its body to a charred corpse, it continued to shriek, until finally it could scream no more.

I grated my teeth as I yanked my weapons from the corpse, the iron a blazing red from the flame, and one of the Imperials muttered, "damn... I've only heard one thing worse than that thing... that woman's horrible wailing... she seriously... calls it singing... must be tone deaf... or something..."

I grimaced, looking at him with a pitying stare, "this woman wouldn't happen to be named Edy, would she?"

He glanced up in surprise, still massaging his ringing ears, and I grimaced again, "thought so."

As the fire died down, Hadvar prodded the arachnid's corpse, a look of disgust crossing his face, "first dragons, now spiders. What next, giant snakes?"

I turned to him, smirking, "you never know. Could be."

The other three snickered as Hadvar let out a sigh, and we continued further into the caverns, newfound joviality having been lit in each of us. But then a strange scent reached my nostrils, and I stopped, raising my hand and stopping the others behind me.

I continued to sniff the air, and I grimaced, "blood," I stated, "I smell blood... and it's fresh."

Not even giving the others a chance to respond, I started forwards, sword drawn as the sound of rushing water once again reached my ears, the mushrooms giving off a fluorescent glow. The further in I went, the stronger the stench became, the heavy stench of iron hanging in the air like mist as I approached.

Upon seeing the source of the stench, I raised my hand, motioning for the others to follow before stepping towards the brutal sight, the stench of blood nearly overpowering me. As the others came up beside me, I heard them all stiffen, and one of them wretch, "w... who...?"

I felt my lips purse themselves as I knelt down, examining the wounds of the dead creature before me, "I don't know who did this," I stated, "but whoever they were, they obviously had a hard time fighting this thing off. Either that, or they were unnecessarily sadistic in killing it," I rubbed the creature's muzzle softly before gently closing its eyelids, murmuring a slight prayer to Arkay, "this bear suffered greatly before it died."

Hadvar knelt down beside me, checking the wounds on its back. He frowned, "no doubt. This is Ralof's handiwork."

I glanced up, "how can you tell?"

He pointed at the wounds, "he has a unique technique he uses when swinging his weapon that involves flicking the wrist at the last second so that the weapon goes in deeper. These wounds are from his axes, the ones on the bear's back. The other wounds, on the other hand," he paused, a hand on one of the bear's forelegs, "I can't tell. These are new to me. But whoever it was, they knew what they were doing. Bit straight into the bone with a sword and an axe."

I bit at my lip as I pressed a hand into the neck, the unmistakable feeling of a broken spine reaching my senses, "they snapped its neck without much of a problem," I stated, my eyes narrowing in remembrance of the white haired boy. Did he do this?

Hadvar stood, wiping his bloody hands on his uniform, "either way, we can't stay here. We need to get out of here," he started further into the caverns, "the exit isn't far ahead. You can feel the wind. Come on."

As the others stood to follow him, I felt my eyes narrow before I stood. I closed my eyes in focus, then felt warmth flow through me as both of my hands ignited in flame.

"Rest in peace," I breathed, and then cast the flame over the bear's corpse, setting it completely ablaze. Then, as the body burned in its funeral, I turned on my heel, and followed the others towards the light that was the exit.


End file.
